


It's a Long Story

by Casstea



Series: It's a Long Story [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Casstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond wakes up when he should really be dead. Q is to blame. And there is something fishy about the cauldron in the middle of the study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Long Story

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the 00Q fandom which kindly presented me with a new shiny OTP to ship. And then I wanted to add some magic. Ooops. I’m just going to leave it here and run away.

When James woke, he was surprised to find that he was not dead.

The explosion should have taken care of him, and if that hadn’t done it, the injuries he had sustained _should_ have. There had been more blood on the concrete floor than there had been inside him, which was always inconvenient.

_Injuries_.

The thought twigged something in the back of his mind, the confusion of his sleep addled brain rising slowly to produce coherent thoughts.

_Where is the pain_?

James threw the sheets off him and grunted in surprise. His once bloody skin was not marked with a single scar, and even a few of the older scars he had acclimated from previous missions weren’t there.

_Odd_ , James thought.

Pushing himself out of the bed, the cold wood floorboards creaked slightly under his feet. James looked around him, his head slowly process the information around him. He had been in this flat before, he had slept in this bed before.

_Q_.

He had been in China before he had fallen into the blackness, and now he was in England. Or more precisely, Q’s flat in England, at a quarter to seven in the morning. It had been ten o’clock England time in China when he had blacked out, and there was no feasible way he could have been extracted made it from China to England and then to Q’s flat in nine hours. It was physically impossible.

Glancing around him, James spotted his clothes neatly folded up in the corner of the room with a precise fold that screamed  _Q_  to him. Shrugging on his trousers, not bothering with the shirt, James peered out of the room and out into the familiar corridor of Q’s flat. Years of training told James that the front room of the flat, the one Q used as a small study, was being used.

Creeping quietly along the boards, still amazed at the lack of aches and pain that should be radiating from every joint in his body at that moment, James glanced in the reflection of the glass door to see who was in the room. The floppy brown hair and concentrated mask confirmed to James that it was indeed Q.

However, the bubbling container that looked suspiciously like a cauldron was not normal.

James watched in amazement as Q peered at the large book in front of him, and then back at cauldron again. Picking up a twig that lay next to him, Q waved it over the top of the cauldron and muttered something like butchered pig Latin to James.

It didn’t take a genius for James to decide that something was not right. At all.

“Hello?” James asked, his voice betraying his confusion.

Q swore violently, jumping out of his skin as he pivoted in his chair, glasses askew to see James standing against the doorframe.

“Not disturbing you?”

“No,” Q said slowly. Just at that moment the cauldron made a hissing noise, taking Q’s attention away from the topless James to the spitting mixture.

“Just sit there,” Q said, pointing to the desk that James recognised from one of their more adventurous encounters, “and don’t touch anything.”

James did as he was told, still not sure if he was hallucinating or having a very odd fever dream.

“Is this a dream?” James asked.

“No,” Q replied, picking up one of the bottles from the table and unstopping it, before knocking a few drops into the spitting mixture. Picking up the twig again, he continued to mutter more pig Latin whilst waving it in a complex series of movements that showed off his wrist rather well.

“Am I on drugs?”

“You are not hallucinating, 007”

“Tripping?”

“That would require drugs,”

“I’m still in China, aren’t I?”

“You’re in England, James,” Q replied.

“And you’re practicing some sort of voodoo,”

“Voodoo would be easier than this,” Q muttered in reply, picking up a leaf from the table and dropping it into the cauldron. It hissed, producing a green tinted smoke that rose from the liquid concoction and smelled suspiciously of roses to James.

Q simply punched the air.

“I’m definitely dreaming,” James said, gripping the edge of the desk to try and prove it wouldn’t hurt, and therefore he would be in a dream. However, reality decided to prove otherwise and the requisite pain registered in James’ brain.

Damn.

“No you’re not,” Q said, getting up from his chair and walking over towards James.

“I’m not?” James questioned, pointing at the cauldron “would you like to explain this?”

“Magic,” Q replied with a grin.

James raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been cleared to see it,” Q said, waving his hand absent mindedly, “M had to battle with the Ministry, but it’s been cleared.”

“I’ve been  _cleared_?” James asked.

“Otherwise you would be very much not breathing,” Q said, poking James in the shoulder, “which reminds me, I thought we had agreed for you not to do any more near death stunts,  _darling_.”

“It’s part of the job,  _dear_ ,”

“Dying is not,” Q replied, his voice taking a serious tone, “we were worried James,  _I_ was worried.”

“I was doing fine-”

“You were dying,”

“It was all under control,” James replied, “I’m still waiting for an explanation as to your,” he pointed at the cauldron, “whatever that is over there.”

“Magic,” Q replied, “I’ve already told you that. It saved your life, be grateful for once.”

“You’re not answering the question,” James replied, noting that Q had crept even closer.

“It’s a long story,” Q protested quietly, leaning in closer.

“Tell me,” James whispered back.


End file.
